SMALL TOWN FOOTBALL: MY CAREER – 27 GAMES AT TIGHT END – CATCHES – 0

SMALL TOWN FOOTBALL PART 7

HIGH SCHOOL VARSITY FOOTBALL

We played keep-a-way for five years in grade school. We played two hand touch, and flag in junior high. We learned how to put on gear, line up and kind of play a real game as freshmen. Now it was time to man up and play on the varsity for Mossyock High School.

This is what a lot kids had been waiting for since those grade school days, running around aimlessly with that little red playground ball. Not, me, however. After my freshmen year I realized that basketball was my sport and I really enjoyed playing it. I also realized that I really did not like to hit or be hit. That is a problem if you are a football player.

However, we had a good group of kids, all my friends, who all wanted to play. I enjoyed being with the guys and being part of the team. I really did not mind practice and all the running and drills. However, I knew after our 5-1 freshman year (once we got past the debacle that was Elma) that we had a chance to be really good, maybe even state champs like the class of 1961. I wanted to be part of that experience and I was willing to play a sport I liked, but did not love, to do it. Given those circumstances, I think I did pretty well. Maybe OK is a better word. Or maybe passable is even more appropriate.

I played varsity football for three years. That includes well over 150 practices, 27 games, 14 bus rides, a few dozen team meetings, 27 pep assemblies, and three homecomings. After 60 years all those activities blend together into one big memory. I have snippets of things I remember, some important and some trivial, sad or funny. I could easily take out the old annuals as well as Google the clippings from the Daily Chronicle to produce a nice, accurate history of those three years. But that would be boring for me as well as anyone who reads this. The memories of those years are more visceral as opposed to historical. The memories I do have are more dreamlike as opposed to vivid events.

The following snippets of what I remember about my three years playing varsity are from that 60+ years ago perspective.

“LET’S GO!” : My sophomore year was one of getting beat up in practice by the juniors and seniors and sitting on the bench during the games. Jeff Davis (my good friend and 2^nd string quarterback, who rarely played) and I had a ritual. The team would gather on the sideline and Coach Taylor would give a big pep talk, ending with everyone jumping up and down then finally yelling in unison, LET’S GO!” Jeff and I would yell “LET’s GO” very loudly and then look at each other and whisper “to the bench.” We would make a beeline for the large, insulated, hooded red parkas and find a place on the bench to stay warm. We stayed there most games, although Jeff was put in for mop up duty when we were way behind. Our team was not very good as there were only three juniors and maybe eight seniors. Several of my sophomore buddies played quite a lot, getting good, hard earned experience. We may have won two games.

Nine years later I was a 7^th grade football coach (who knew?). It was our last game and I wanted to make sure everyone got to play. I yelled for little, if ever used, David, to get in the game at right tackle. Little David was under his parka and said “Wait a minute, Coach.” I told him that we didn’t have a minute and pulled off his parka. He was eating a hamburger, fries and a hot chocolate that a friend had snuck to him. He looked at me and said, “I was hungry coach.” He had that frightened look in his eyes like I was going to yell at him. I chuckled and said, “David, I wish I had thought of that nine years ago.” I asked him if he wanted to go in the game. He told me no and I put the parka over his head and let him finish his snack.

THE COLUMBUS DAY STORM: October 12, 1962 is a rather famous date in Pacific Northwest history. The big storm came up the California and Oregon coast with winds over 100 miles per hour. In 1962 the weather reporting was not like it is now. We heard reports of some high winds in Oregon, but did not pay much attention. We had a game to play that night.

Our pregame ritual was to dress and then go to the gym where we were supposed to lie on tumbling mats in the dark and envision how we were going to play. We were never sure if the coach was in the gym or not, so we mostly stayed quiet. On this night we could hear the wind howling outside. Coach Taylor announced that he was checking to see if we were going to still have the game and ordered us to stay in the gym where it was safe. When he left, we all started talking excitedly about the storm, forgetting that we might have a game in 45 minutes.

Then, we saw a flash of light that lit up the whole gym for a couple of seconds. This was followed by a very big BOOM and a loud crash. The upper windows of the gym had been blown out by the wind and/or lightening. We were all silent for a few seconds then Rudy, yelled, “I don’t care how much trouble I’m getting into. I’m getting the Hell out of here.” We all followed Rudy and ran for the door to the locker room. By the time Coach Taylor arrived from the office, we were all dressed and some kids had already left. As vice principal and a member of the city council as well, Mr. Taylor had bigger fish to fry on this night. He told those of us who remained, to go directly home. We, of course, did just the opposite. I got in Jim Howard’s car and we drove all around town looking at the damage that was done and being done to the area. Finally, a Lewis County Sherriff pulled us over and told us if he saw us again, he would arrest us and take us home himself. Did we go home? No. We all went to the bowling alley and hung out there in the dark until it was almost daylight. I think our parents figured that was about as safe as place as any. Sherriff’s deputies would come by periodically to get coffee and tell us some stories of what they had seen. It was an exciting an unforgettable night.

I guess when I say that one of the biggest natural disasters to ever hit Lewis County was the highlight of my sophomore football season, that gives you an idea of what the season was like.

BEACH DRILLS: My junior season started with a couple car loads of us kids heading to the beach to camp for three nights. We could camp on the beach at that time and build fires as well. We brought our cleats and footballs along. The idea was to spend the day running and doing drills and then sit around the campfire and tell stories. None of us drank, so that was not part of the deal. We had a great time and that has been a good memory that has stuck with me.

STARTING: During my junior and senior year I started at left end on offense and at right defensive end. Several of us played both offense and defense. When we stopped the other team, Coach would yell “Offense unit go in!” Three players would go in as three players went off the field. Eight of us played both ways. I remember one fan, who may have had a little too much alcohol in his thermos, Yelling, “Coach, my unit’s bigger than that.”

The rumor around school was that the only reason I started was that Rudy was a good friend and he played left tackle, lining up beside me. Supposedly, Rudy could not remember the plays and I was there to help him out. This was not totally true. Rudy was actually a very smart kid, who saw no reason in studying. Rudy’s problem was that he would get so riled up that my job was to calm him down and remember that Jeff might call an audible (change the play at the line of scrimmage with a live color).

Actually, I was a pretty good blocker, especially on cross blocks and traps. I never went offside and I always hustled, even though my lack of speed made people think otherwise. That brings up a pet peeve that held over to when I was coaching myself.

WIND SPRINTS: At the end of practice, we ran wind sprints. These were usually 20-30 yards, go as fast as you can, sprints, done in groups. I was in with the backs and receivers. I wanted to explain to the coach that since I never had passes thrown to me, I really was more of an outside, second tackle and I should run with the linemen. Most of them were faster than me as well, but not by as much as the backs and receivers.

We usually ran 8-12 of these sprints with maybe a 20 second rest in between. During the first few sprints, Jim H, who was probably the fastest kid on the team, would run with me, just striding along, going about 2/3 his fastest speed. By the 6^th sprint, which I had run at my top speed, I was pretty gassed. Jim would actually be talking to me as we ran. I could only huff and puff. Around the 10^th sprint, Coach would yell, “FIRST TWO ACROSS THE 30 YARD LINE, GOES IN.” Jim would look at me, smile, and say, “See Ya inside.” He would finish first with the only sprint that he ran full out, and the coach would yell, “Good hustle, Jim. Take it in.” The rest of us would continue with this drill until there were only three or four of us left. Coach would say, “Show me some hustle, and you can go in.” We were all thinking, “We’ve been hustling way more than those A-holes in the locker room”, but, instead we yelled, “YES COACH!”

We would kill ourselves with one last all out – and slow- sprint and Coach would shrug his shoulders and tell us to take a shower. I would get to the locker room and Jim would be finishing getting dressed. He would yell, “Haslett, where you been?” I would give him the finger as I headed to the shower.

This is a disclaimer of sorts here, which is of the 60 year old memory kind. Mike O’Connell, after reading this story, told me there was no way Jim Howard would ever beat him in a sprint. Who am I to doubt him and his memory? I do remember that Mike was by far the best hustler on the team, so he may have finished his sprints first as well. All Jim wanted to do was get in the shower room.

I remember very little of my junior year. I think we finished 5-4 or 6-3. We only had three seniors and there was a very good sophomore class behind us, so things looked good for our senior year.

I do remember the Winlock game as it gave us a look at how good we could be our senior year. We had a play called, I think, “44 Power.” It called for Mike O’Connell to run straight up the middle while the two tackles pulled to form what looked like, a huge human wedge with the center, two guards and the two tackles just bull dozing ahead, while Mike drove as hard as he could behind the mass. The two ends were to try to pick off any linebackers and join the mass. The play was only good for 4-6 yards, but we just kept running it for first downs and even began telling the Winlock guys we were running right at them. To overpower a team like that was a lot of fun and gave us confidence for our senior year.

THE PAPER BANNER: ANOTHER PET PEEVE

Everyone has seen the construction paper banners that cheer leaders hold up for players to run through as they entered the field, with fans cheering and bands playing. I hate those banners. Our locker room was in the new school (built in 1957, so still new in the mid-1960s), but the football field was by the old school some 200 yards away.

The ritual was for the team to walk from our locker room toward the field and then as we were about 20 yards from the field, start yelling and sprint through the banner, which was held by cheerleaders under the goal posts. We were to walk up with seniors first in line, then juniors, sophomores and freshmen. As a sophomore and junior I never expected to be toward the front. By my senior year, I was ready to break that banner. I figured if I was in the front of the pack (we had 15 seniors), I could sprint fast enough for 20 yards to get a good shot at that banner or at least tie with four or five other guys. I am not too proud to admit that I did ask my cheerleader girlfriend to make the banners a few feet wider so more players could help break it. I was looking for any edge.

We had five home games our senior year. That was five chances to break the banner. Would I punch it as I raced through or should I put my hands up as if winning the marathon? I was more than ready.

As we started our first walk, Rudy, always totally psyched up for a game and pretty fast for being the biggest guy on the team, started chanting “VIKINGS, VIKINGS!” We were still 100 yards away from the field and the whole team was getting way too prematurely psyched. About 75 yards out Rudy, who had been walking faster and faster, could not contain himself, yelled, “LET’S GO!” I said, “shit” and started running, but 75 yards was too much for the stampede in progress. All the seniors and several of the fast juniors passed me. By the time I reached the banner, it was in shreds and the cheerleaders had started to pick up the litter.

Even after talking and begging with Rudy to calm down, which he promised to do, it was to no avail. We always took off 75-100 yards out and with me coming in well after the banner was wasted. I actually thought about sneaking out early and hiding behind one of the cars near the field and then coming out just as the group neared the banner, Rosie Ruis Boston Marathon style. I figured I may look a little silly hiding behind a car in full football gear, so that idea was dismissed, but not before I had given it serious consideration.

Over the years, I have watched blooper videos of players running through banners and tripping, getting all wrapped in it or actually bouncing off and landing on their butts. As I watched those videos, I thought, “That’s what you get showoffs.”

Whenever I watch a high school game and see the banner ritual, I think back to my high school days, but I do it with a smile. Good memory…….. after 60 years.

Below: The view I had of my teammates running through the banner.

MOCLIPS: We began our senior year with high hopes of beating Toledo and winning a league championship, maybe even the AP Poll state championship. That was somewhat derailed with a loss to Moclips in our first game. We played at Moclips, which was a reservation school on the Pacific Ocean about a five hour drive from Mossyrock. Some little Indian kid ran for three or four touchdowns. I think coach was surprised at how good they were. Moclips was an A school and had a very good year in their division, so when we went on a three game winning streak, we regained a spot in the top five in the state B polls.

TOLEDO: Toledo, by 1964, was legendary. They were on a 30 something win streak and their hall of fame coach, Ted Hippi, ran a unique double wing offense in which the center could either hike it to the quarterback (Robin Hippi, coach’s son) in the traditional style or directly to the fullback, the ball going between the quarterback’s legs. They always had a really fast kid going in motion and the fullback was always at least 190 pounds, which was huge for a small high school running back in the 60’s.

Of course, they were rated # 1 in the state and we were # 4 or #5, with our one loss to an A school. But, if we could beat Toledo, we could win the league championship and have an outside shot at the state championship. That had been our goal and it was still within reach as we prepared for the “game of the year” in the county.

Our coaches had scouted all four of Toledo’s games and we had actually started working on defending their vaunted offense after our second game. It was one of those games that small school football is all about. We played at Toledo and we brought two buses full of high school rooters. The stands were full and the people around the restraining ropes were 15 deep on each side from goal line to goal line. There was enough booze in that crowd of loggers, mill workers and longshoremen to stock a cruise ship for a week.

Warming up on a pretty nice October evening, I remember, being in awe of playing in front of so many people. It seemed like all of Lewis County was there. This was pretty heady stuff for a little kid from Salkum.

The game was close. We lost 20-13. The only thing I remember about the game was Toledo’s pass/lateral. Our coaches had scouted them so well that we knew that on third and 6 or 7, they would throw a short two yard pass over the middle to their tight end, expecting him to use his 6’3” and 190 pounds to run for at least another 5 or 6 yards to get a first down. The first time they were in 3^rd and six, we were ready. The quarterback, Hippi, threw the short pass. When it was caught, both linebackers hit him and I was coming to finish him off well short of the first down. But, the end had flipped the ball to a wingback, who had gone in motion. He ran past me full speed on his way to a 43 yard gain. They ran this play to the other side later in the game for a touchdown and to my side once more for 20 some yards. Those plays broke our back and were the difference in the game.

The next fall I was a freshman at Centralia College and became friends with the end who did the laterals. His name was Ken. He said that coach Hippi had purposely used the short pass over the middle several times in previous games so our scouts could get a good look at it. At the same time, they had practiced the pass/lateral every day leading up to our game, but never used until they played us.

We finished the rest of the season undefeated and took second to Toledo in the league and got some votes in the AP Poll. So, it was a good year.

0 for 18: I started and played most offensive downs for 18 games. A typical game has 50 offensive plays. That means I was involved in 900 hundred offensive plays. How many passes did I catch? Well, after some research….none. I was targeted twice in those 900 plays. How did this happen. First, in my defense, even when Coach Taylor had fast and really good receivers, he rarely passed. He believed in the crushing old fashioned, marine style ground game. Actually, that worked to my advantage. If we had been a passing team, there were other kids way better than me at running and catching, but I was a better blocker.

So, what happened when I was targeted? The first time, I was not actually targeted. Jeff was scrambling and I found myself in the open. I yelled and waved my arms and Jeff heaved it toward me. It was thrown short and as I was coming in to catch it, the opposing player, ran in front and intercepted it. As Jeff was leaving the field, he yelled at me, “Dammit, Gary. A little faster and you could have at least avoided the interception.” I was upset by this statement by my best friend, but I realized he was right. That was my first chance. I figured it was my last.

The second one, Jeff was trying to be nice to me. It was our second to last game of the year and we were up by 21 or so, pounding the ball with our two 190 pound junior running backs. We were on the ten and ready to score again. As we broke the huddle for another running play, Jeff said to me, “Gary, be ready. You’re getting a touchdown pass.” I was totally surprised and excited. The play that came from the coaches and what Jeff told the players in the huddle, was another running play. But at the line of scrimmage, Jeff called “Red 80- Z” which was me going to the back of the end zone with a Z pattern. Ed, the center, actually looked back at Jeff, as if asking, “What the Hell are you doing?” But, Jeff had called the audible and he was the boss on the field.

I knew I had to make the Z very short in order to make the two cuts before Jeff threw. The defensive back was caught off guard. I am sure he was thinking, “Our scouting report says the left end has not caught a pass in two years. What is he doing going out on a pattern, let alone, what is the quarterback doing looking at him?”

I ran the perfect Z. I took two steps forward, took a jab step to my right, ran five more yards to my left and then cut to my right, where I saw ball coming right at me and ……. Damn! Someone hit me. I was on the ground dazed and pissed that I lost my chance for a touchdown catch because some defensive back hit me too soon. I thought at least it was a penalty and we would have the ball on the one. No harm done. Then I looked up and saw the goal post. The goal posts were set two yards behind the goal line in those days. I had ran full on into the left post as the ball drifted over my head.

A couple of teammates, helped me up, trying not to laugh. One said, “Damn, Gary, you about had your first touchdown catch.” The other kid said, “First touchdown, Hell. That would have been his first catch!” The first kid said “no way. I guess I haven’t been paying attention the last two years. Seems like you would’ve had caught at least one by now.” I told them to shut the F up,” as I headed back to the huddle.

It was then that I heard Coach Taylor, who had called timeout, yelling at Jeff. “Jeff, what are you doing throwing to Gary. I told you to never throw to Gary.” Other players were smiling and enjoying the moment at Jeff and my expense. Jeff and I hardly ever got yelled at by Coach. Jeff meekly said, “Coach, I just wanted him to catch a pass. A TD would have been even better.” Coach Taylor said, “ Jeff, I know he’s your best friend, but do not throw to him again. Think of the team. I wanted to yell, “I’m right here guys.”

THE FINISH: Coach Taylor, to his credit, talked to me after the game and said he may have got a little carried away with Jeff about passing to me. He said I was valuable to the team for my blocking and being a good teammate and I did not have to catch a pass to do my job as designed. That made me feel better….somewhat. I did joke a little and said, as I was leaving, “So, Coach, just one more Red 80-Z? He said probably not, but he added, “If I ever call it I would make damn sure it was in the middle of the field so you won’t run in to the goal post.” I felt good that he would joke with me like that.

The last game ritual was to have the coach shake the hands of each senior as they left to hit the field for the last time. I was surprised how emotional I was when Coach shook my hand and said, “Thank you Gary for playing for Mossyrock.”

We were ahead by three or four touchdowns when Coach started pulling the seniors so we could get our ovations. I was on the sidelines, thinking, “I played four years and made it through with only some bumps and bruises. Basketball starts Monday. Thank God!”

About this time Rudy and a few other seniors were begging Coach Taylor to let them back in the game so they would be on the field when the last gun sounded. Coach Taylor yelled, “Ok seniors, who wants to go back in for the last series?” Several ran to him. I stayed on the bench. He sent the seniors in to another ovation. Coach Taylor came over to me with a knowing look. He looked at me and smiled and said, “So, basketball starts Monday, huh?” I smiled and nodded. He patted me on the head and that was the end of my football career, ending on the bench where it started. I felt very good.